Things Girls Do After Marriage: Vacation, Part I

Trip friends and strong ceviche.

The ceviche smelled particularly strong for a resort that should have world-class ceviche given their proximity to the ocean. While it didn’t smell rank by any means, the smell became so off-putting that she simply covered it with a napkin before putting her sunglasses back on and settling into her lounger.

“That’s what you get for ordering raw fish at 11:07 a.m. by the pool,” she thought. “Probably leftovers from last night’s dinner.”

She didn’t remember drinking that much wine last night, but she also didn’t remember her glass ever being all that empty either. The nausea that was beginning to set in only began to amplify given the ever-present ceviche stench that wasn’t seeming to get taken away by the wind.

She looked down at her phone and knew it was too early to text Todd to see what hole he was on. While he had a 9:31 tee time, he was playing alone which meant he’d at least be done around lunchtime.

The lead-up to this trip really couldn’t have been more torturous for either of them. He had been doing late nights at the office with his company not receiving the start-up funding that he initially thought would be a simple formality. She, on the other hand, simply needed to make good on her promise to get some downtime as prescribed by her therapist.

Due to the aforementioned circumstances, they hadn’t taken a trip like this since their honeymoon. The purse strings become tighter and tighter when the breadwinner decides to leave his solidified career to pursue a venture he could only describe as “something more than what I was doing.”

She scans the pool. A couple with two kids attempting to wear them out before afternoon naps. A group of girls that looks like a bachelorette party but, based on appearances, is probably a 40th birthday getaway. One half of the couple they made friends with the night before at after-dinner drinks but now have hesitations about approaching due to, well, the wine from the night before.

She glances at her phone — 11:57 a.m.

It’s a weird urgency when you’re on vacation with just the two of you. On one hand, you know you need to take advantage of the relaxation time you’ve afforded yourself. On the other hand, you want to maximize the time you’re spending with your partner. When one of you is licking the wounds from the night before, it’s almost essential you attack the day as a tandem.

Despite the ensuing headache, she picked up her Kindle and began going through the free books she’d downloaded before the trip. While she wanted to Instagram Story a photo of her physical copy of Emily Henry’s “Beach Read” next to a picturesque cocktail, it felt a little too on the nose for their trip. Besides, Caroline had essentially done that two weeks prior with “The Guest List” by Lucy Foley in Cabo.

Interrupting the literature-driven sparring that was going on in her head, the pool waiter appears out of nowhere: “Everything going alright over here?”

“Actually,” she responds while sliding her sunglasses down her nose, “You can take the ceviche.”

“But you barely touched it!” he jokes while removing the napkin.

“I think my eyes were bigger than my stomach,” she says. “And I don’t think last night helped much either.”

He gives a forced laugh. She echoes it. The conversation ends with a hurried “gracias” and her sunglasses resuming their natural position. But she does make a mental note to herself that they need to tip him well at the end of their trip as he’s been the biggest constant during their days at the resort.

12:16 p.m.

12:21 p.m.

12:48 p.m.

“Okay,” she finally admits, “I have to text him.” After all, what if he’s eating on the course and she doesn’t actually have to wait for him for lunch? You know, even though lunch sounds like more of a “need” than a “want” at this point.

“Yep, we’re on 16 right now,” he assures her in a surprisingly prompt fashion. “But we’re stuck behind an older foursome, so it may be a slow couple holes in since it’s too late to play through.”

Looking up from her phone, there’s a woman standing in front of her. A familiar face, she realizes, once she got past the oversized sunglasses and sun hat.

“Well last night got a little away from us!” she interjects.

“Oh hey!” she snaps back. “Uh, yeah, I’ve felt… better?”

“Can I sit down or are you waiting on your Todd?”

She’s taken aback that names were remembered, mainly because the feeling isn’t currently mutual.

“Oh, he’s golfing, that’s all you, hun.”

“Ugh, Graham has been golfing alllllllllll morning, I feel like he’s been gone forever.”

Okay, there’s one name.

“Have you texted him yet?”

“Oh, girl, I texted him at 10:45 and told his ass to hurry up. I’m not spending all this money on a vacation so he can hang out by himself.”

They laugh.

“Well, what they charge here for a bottle of sparkling rosé is highway robbery — want to split a bottle to ease the pain?”

“I’ll be honest,” she coyly replies, “It may be too early for that for me still.”

“Oh, come on!” she encourages her, “I think this is exactly what the doctor would order.”

It was in that moment that it clicked in that her newfound friend was actually a doctor — an oncologist, nonetheless — per the introductions the night before, probably the last thing she remembers with any confidence.

“…alright, alright, where’s our man Angel? We can get this train rolling.”

They laugh again, but this time more genuinely and comfortably.

“Remind me your name again?” she requests with a palpable hesitancy, “I’m sorry, I’m so bad with names, especially when I’ve been drinking.”

“Oh, it’s alright — Rosemary,” she smiles. “But you can just call me Rose— hey, before he comes by, do you want to get something to nibble on too? I’m craving some ceviche.”

She gulped. She could feel her gag reflex kick in. “Ehh, I’d explore the menu a bit more, the ceviche I got earlier was a little… funky.”

“Ugh,” she groans with a letdown nature, “Their ceviche has been the best! Between how hungover you’re acting and you not being able to handle a little fresh-caught ceviche, I’d have half a mind to say you’re pregnant.”

She gulped even harder.

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